


Lipstick

by LetheSomething



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Crossdressing, Early game 707, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I'd say canon divergent, Innocent AU, One Shot, and i just wanna write about pretty boys in lipstick, but this is MM, canon comes with 49 endings, you can't stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 17:45:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13641303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetheSomething/pseuds/LetheSomething
Summary: 707 takes his friend out on a ‘girls night’ to cheer her up.Ultra-fast-burn friends-to-lovers, in an extremely fluffy way.Female reader





	Lipstick

“Hmmm, Doll House Pink?”  
“No.”  
He pouts and goes back to rifling through your make-up bag.  
“Oooh, what about this one? Starlet Red?”  
Seven holds out a very bright red lipstick, smiling widely. “Let me borrow this one.”  
“No.”  
“Aw pleeaase? Only for one night.” He rolls over on the bed and flutters his eyelashes at you. “I promise to give it back.”  
“Seven. No.”  
“Seven yes!”  
“It’ll clash with your hair,” you sigh. “You wanna look like a clown? Gimme the bag.”  
You hold out your hand and he plops it in. “You want something darker, like a nice burgundy or a sierra or something.”  
Frowning, you search for a colour that will at least match his general complexion. “What about this?,” you say, holding out a very respectable looking lipstick that you, admittedly, have never used before. “Chocolate Cherry?”  
He flops over dramatically. “That sounds boring.”

You roll your eyes and go back to the search. Ash Black, Cherry Blossom, Sun Kissed Orange, Unicorn.... Blue?  
When did you pick up quite this much make-up anyway?  
Finally, you see the tube you’ve been looking for. It’s suitably shiny, a silver cylinder with swirly black writing on it, straddling the line between classy and tacky in a way that reminds you of Jessica Rabbit.  
“Here. Femme Fatale.”  
His eyes light up at the name alone and you hold it out to him.  
“Try it.”  
He takes the tube from your hand and sprints to the mirror to apply it, before giving himself a critical look.  
“What do you think?”  
He turns around and it's… damn near perfect. The colour complements his skin. It makes his eyes pop, bringing out flecks of gold underneath his glasses. It runs a shiver down your neck and makes your heart ache.  
“Well shit,” you say. “I’m having second thoughts about this.”  
“Why?” he droops and comes closer, giving you the biggest puppy eyes he can muster.  
“At this rate I’m basically gonna be wingwoman to the hottest chick at the party, ” you sigh. “That looks amazing on you.”  
“Yay!” his face creases into a smile and he jumps up. “Though nothing will ever match the radiance of thy beauty.” He holds his hand to his heart and twirls through the room.  
“Whut.”  
“Did I sound like Zen just now?”  
“Ya.”  
He winks. “There’s nothing Captain 707 can’t do. Now, let me show you my outfit.”  
You sigh and shake your head, smiling, as he runs into the bathroom with his backpack.

He wanted to take you on a girl’s night out.  
For research, he said.  
It’ll be fun, he said.  
Two friends going out and partying, he said.  
And you, silly as you are, could never refuse him anything.  
So here you sit in your desk chair, leaning your chin on your hand, as your best friend parades through the room in a snazzy looking dress that makes you more than a little confused about your sexuality. Also: super jealous of his figure.  
“Where the hell did you get the boobs?” you ask.  
“That’s a secret,” he smiles. “They’re good though, aren’t they? Very squishy, supposed to be pretty realistic. Wanna feel?”  
“No?”  
“Are you sure?”  
“N-no? Ok, lemme feel.”  
He shoves his chest at you while you nervously hold out your hands.  
They’re surprisingly nice. The boobs, that is. B-cup, about the right size for his posture.  
You’re impressed by the amount of restraint it must have taken him to not go for double D’s or something.  
You give them a squeeze.  
Squishy.  
“It’s not the first time you’re doing something like this, is it?” you mutter.  
“I sometimes dress up for work. But this time is different.”  
“How so?”  
“This time it’s for fun, and you’ll be there!”  
“Well, lemme tell you, if your legs look better in heels than mine, I’m breaking up with you as a friend.”  
“Boo.” He goes to sit on the bed and pulls an eye shadow palette out of his bag. “Come help me with this? I wanna do a smoky eye.”

 

* * *

 

 

The night goes about as well as you’d expect.  
You dress up and go out, feeling a little like the ugly stepsister to Seven's Cinderella, but you have to admit it's amusing.  
Being with Seven usually is, and this time you don't even have to hold back in case it gets awkward.  
Seven’s BFF persona is loud, flirty, outgoing and at times plain weird.  
She lights up a room and dances like there's no tomorrow. She makes really bad jokes, never strays from your side and is unabashedly blunt with the men trying to make a pass at her.  
But because 'Lucille’ looks pretty damn hot, this doesn’t seem to faze them too much.  
You reach for the mace in your purse at least three times during the course of the evening, but you should never underestimate a genius with some Intelligence training. Every time you think a situation is about to escalate into a full-on bar fight, Lucille flirts her way out of it, just to come back to your table with some pink fruity drink.  
“You want this?” she asks, “They keep giving me this stuff.”  
“Buying drinks is a basic way of flirting, Lucille,” you say with a lopsided smile.  
“Well is it bad form to accept it and then walk away?”  
“No.”  
“Is it bad form to give it to your bestest friend?”  
“Probably,” you say, grabbing the drink and pulling out the umbrella. “But I’m not about to let a perfectly good Cosmopolitan go to waste.”  
“Well, drink up, because there’s a spot on that dance floor with our name on it.”  
You have just enough time to gulp about half of the overly sweet vodka down your throat, before you’re dragged away, into the thick press of bodies moving rhythmically to something resembling a beat.

 

* * *

  
“So this is what heaven feels like.”  
Seven lies back on your bed, having just kicked off his heels. He wiggles his toes with a soft sigh.  
“Yup. I’m impressed you kept them on that long. But there's nothing better than coming home after a long day and taking off the heels and the bra.”  
He cups his breasts. “I dunno, these are pretty comfy.”  
“They’re fake, Seven.”  
“True, that.”  
You ponder for a moment.  
“Would you.…like them to not be?” you say carefully.  
“Nope, I’m good.” He sits up and starts pulling off the dress.  
You look away, face heating up.  
“So what was all that about, anyway?” you ask the Rocky Horror poster on your wall.  
“Mmm? Like I said, I wanted to go out with you.” His voice sounds muffled as he’s wriggling out of his clothes. “I wanted to have fun and you always seem a little uncomfortable when we’re out in public together. Like you’re afraid of people thinking we’re a couple or something.”  
“So your answer was crossdressing!?” you gawp.  
“Hey! I like this outfit! Gurl don’t even pretend like I don’t rock this look,” he says, and you can hear the amusement in his voice. “Also it worked. You giggled like most of the evening.”  
“That’s cause I was tipsy from all the cosmo’s people kept buying you!”

“But you had fun, didn’t you?” His voice is suddenly very close and you turn to see him lean in, smiling through smudged mascara.  
You swallow, blinking fast, and then he’s gone again, bending over a chair to pick up his regular clothes. “You’ve been looking down lately, so god Seven descended to earth to take you dancing and lift your spirits,” he says.  
“And get me tipsy,” you grin. “Don’t forget that part because I will have regrets in the morning.”  
“Ya you should really take care of yourself," he mutters as he enters the bathroom.  
"I am NOT taking health advice from a man who lives on chips and soda,” you start huffing, but he returns with a large glass of water.  
“Hydrate Get!” He plops it on the desk next to you. “I’m going to steal your shower for a bit, if you don’t mind.”  
“Mm, go ahead.”  
“Ahhh, you’re so nice! Better be careful, or Captain 707 will steal not only your make-up and your bathroom, but also your heart.”  
You lean back with a deep sigh and sip water, listening to your friend sing a waterlogged rendition of a Whitney Houston song.

“Hey, does this stuff even come off?”  
A cloud of steam announces his return, and as soon as you see him, you fall over in a fit of giggles.  
His hair is wet, skin damp and warm from the shower. It would be just like some of your more secret dreams, if his face didn't look like a raccoon’s.  
The mascara has been rubbed everywhere but it’s still clinging to his eyes like the brave little soldier it is. His lips are Femme Fatale red, only now it’s not just his lips, but most of his mouth, with a smear going halfway across his cheek.  
“It’s waterproof,” you say, gasping for breath. “Hold on. Sit here.”  
You pat the bed next to you and get up to grab your make-up remover.  
“You need special cleanser to get rid of it,” you explain, prepping a cotton pad. “Close your eyes.”  
He sits straight, twitches only slightly when you gently wipe the cotton over his eyes.  
“There’s no need for you to be that careful you know,” he says. “God Seven is not a delicate flower.”  
You snort. “Well no. You look like a friggin clown right now.”  
He makes a face and reaches out to jab you in the ribs.  
“Ow! Hey! If I’m not careful I’ll poke your eye out!”  
“Ok, ok. I’ll be good.” He grins widely, sitting back to let you finish. You concentrate on slowly cleaning off his lashes and your own skin could only wish that you’d ever take that much care for it.

“Alright. There,” you say after a while.  
He opens his eyes, gold rising to meet you like a dawning sun.  
“Better?” he asks.  
You remember to breathe. “Yup! Just your lips now.”  
“You know this lipstick says it’s 'extra enriching’. Does that mean I have super soft lips now?”  
“Probably,” you say, looking away to prep another cotton pad. “Hold still?”  
He sits obediently, golden eyes watching you with intent as you wipe the lipstick from his cheek and around his mouth.

“Almost done,” you murmur as you pull away to find a clean pad.  
“Hey,” he says suddenly, voice almost a murmur. “Can I kiss you?”  
You blink at him, mild shock probably written all over your face.  
“While they’re still soft,” he adds with a smirk.  
“Seven, your lips won’t suddenly go…” you start saying, but your voice trails off as your eyes travel down.  
His lips are swollen slightly, parted just a little, tinted in the last vestiges of red.  
There’s a gleam in his eye that is somewhere between mischief and desire and you, silly little you, can never resist or deny him.  
“Ok?” you croak, and he leans in, lips pressing against yours in a move that is both too gentle and too brief to give you any consolation.

You take a deep breath and look up into twinkling gold eyes.  
“What was that for?”  
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he shrugs. “And just then, it looked like you also wanted it. So Captain 707 swooped in and took his chance!”  
“So that’s how it is.” You shake your head, chuckling.  
“Too much?” he asks.  
“You’ve always been a handful, Seven,” you sigh. “But I do know how you can make it up to me.”  
“Oh?”  
“You’re going to have to do that again.”  
“What, the kissing or the dre-” Your hand reaches behind his neck, tugging him closer. “Ohhh. Ok.”

 


End file.
